


|the cross and the overbearing|

by littlekaracan



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: All The Diplomats Could Use A Nap, Apprentice!Pauline, Character Death But Only OCs, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, LBR This Is Just An Effort To Make Morgarath Look More Evil, Parental Mentor/Student Relationship, Reflection, Sort Of, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlekaracan/pseuds/littlekaracan
Summary: Pauline saw a fair amount of her own confusion in Alyss, the outrage and hurt in the young bright eyes. She was aware she was being a little too cold. A little too distrustful.But, for the sake of all which was dear to her, she wasnotgoing to repeat a mistake.Pauline was no longer a young apprentice with a cunning smile and the luxury to brush off the thought of a distant war. Instead, all outer layers stripped, she remained a cautious and deliberate woman - and along with the unwillingness to put those she cared about in harm's way,  all her cold fury was, and would always be, directed at Morgarath.
Relationships: Pauline duLacy & Alyss Mainwaring, Pauline duLacy & OC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	|the cross and the overbearing|

**Author's Note:**

> yeahh so im still very gay for all the diplomats and i think that's very cool and good of me. so here's a story about the diplomats. they're competent! they're cool! they rival the rangers in cunning and cleverness because flanagan doesn't know what he's doing with the ra ladies so i'll just do them all myself.  
> enjoy!! please let me know what you think!

_“This is too dangerous. I am going alone, and that is final, apprentice.”_

_Edin’s arms were crossed, her voice colder than the Araluen winter. And, from the way she stressed Pauline’s title, the latter felt less than willing to argue. Still, she was not about to let herself be left in the thunderstorms of the spring, tucked away in the castle of Steadlow with a Baron she couldn’t get any honest work to do from and a few dozen noble ladies who she had gotten so scarily good at tolerating she barely recognized her own reflection in the windows after a night with them._

_Pauline took a breath, and, as quickly as she could, spoke. “Mistress, with all due respect, this isn’t a job for one person. We’ve known for a long time Bal was dangerous, yes, but now he’s gone and gotten himself a flock of supporters. You can’t take them all on alone. That’d be a suicide mission.” She folded her arms tightly._

_Edin listened to her apprentice speak, nodding along from time to time. “Yes, I suppose so,” she agreed, immediately adding, “But taking them all on is not what I am planning to do. I want to bring Bal in, alive, and I can achieve this by striking him down when he is alone.”_

_“He’s never alone.”_

_“I’ve got a plan, Pauline.”_

_Pauline picked up on her mentor's exasperation, but it had never stopped her before. “If you’d informed me, Mistress…”_

_Edin put her hands on her hips, looking up at her apprentice. “Why would I do that, if I’m not taking you along with me?”_

_“Mistress Edin, please listen to me.” Pauline stepped forward, putting her hands together in a plea. “Bal is lethal in combat. He’s dishonest, and he adapts, and he’s not as just as you are. Your blowpipe won’t put him down quickly enough. He’ll certainly play unconscious so he can catch you off-guard, and he’ll most likely--”_

_“Pauline.” Edin stopped her with a raised hand. “I’m aware of all of this. Why must you repeat it?”_

_“Because it doesn’t sound like you have those qualities of his in mind,” Pauline snapped at her._

_There was a moment of silence. Then, Edin made a wide gesture, turning to Pauline with an incredulous look on her face. She hadn’t seen her apprentice this adamant about something for a long time. “If you doubt my judgement, you’re welcome to elaborate.”_

_“By no means, Mistress.” Pauline shook her head, stepping back. “I only… I’m well aware of how fond you are of improvisation, but there are certain situations where one should rely on probability, no?”_

_Edin stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. “You’re well-taught, my dear apprentice,” she said, “but not well enough. There’s one thing you don’t realize.”_

_“Please enlighten me.”_

_Edin sighed, looking at the youthful, determined eyes - as much as she downplayed it, she really had no doubt Pauline would go on to do great things, if only she got this unyielding heart of an idealist tamed. Which, as she was very much aware, was difficult, and usually required more than a few shards split off of it._

_“We’re desperate,” Edin stated, crossing her arms. Pauline squinted in confusion. “We have not a man nor woman nor anybody to spare. Who will be holding the front here in Steadlow if you’re off with me?”_

_“It survived perfectly fine on its own before you were assigned here, Mistress.”_

_“Because it had another diplomatic head that Bal murdered,” Edin cut her off coldly. “I’m not about to let him add to his quota.”_

_“Yes, but, don’t you think the rest of the Service here is fine… without_ me _?”_

_Edin fell silent, looking up at her apprentice, who seemed to have taken an uncanny interest in the floorboards._

_“I’m just an apprentice,” she muttered. “That’s no diplomat yet.”_

_Edin took Pauline by the shoulders, squeezing softly. “Don’t sell yourself short,” she told her. “Where you are, you make up at least a half.”_

_Chuckling, Pauline escaped her grip and crossed her arms again, tucking herself in, almost._

_“Thank you, Mistress. But still, if anything, it’s a job more befitting a Ranger than a Courier, no?” she asked. Edin laughed out loud._

_“Are you not aware of the state the Ranger Corps is in presently?” she questioned, tilting her head in disbelief. “The entire structure is in disarray. To them, experience and skill has lost its meaning, and the last remaining good Rangers are about to be driven away or killed. Nobody in their right mind would leave anything of even the slightest importance to them now. And I am not entrusting the Ranger Corps to take care of what might very well be one of their own.”_

_Pauline raised an eyebrow. “One of their own?”_

_Edin closed her eyes momentarily before starting to talk again. “Before being caught in an unfortunate “accident” soon afterward, my contact in the Ranger Corps told me he believes Lord Morgarath is involved in this. He seemed very insistent. And, considering he got stabbed almost immediately thereafter, presumably for relaying the information to me, I’m inclined to believe him.”_

_Pauline gasped noiselessly, her eyes darting to the map on the wall, littered with pins. She touched one of them thoughtfully. “That’s why they’ve been wandering so close to Gorlan Fief with no concern when they’ve been spotted circling most others!”_

_“Bal, you mean? Yes, that’s what I thought as well.” Edin stepped up, tracing a path across Araluen with her finger. “They want to avoid confrontation, but they find none in Gorlan and those allied with it. It’s very obvious, when you think about it.”_

_“Not without the information we have.” Pauline smiled thinly. “Gorlan is notorious for its many criminal dens.”_

_Edin bowed her head in agreement. “We are the Service,” she said. “If the Corps is out of order, their share of information belongs with us. At least until they can sort themselves out.”_

_Silence befell them for a moment, Edin waiting for her apprentice to say what she so obviously wanted to say._

_“If Morgarath has corrupted the Corps - the_ Corps _, Mistress, once their integrity rivaled our own - don’t you think he might want to move on to us next?”_

_“That is one of my fears,” Edin admitted hesitantly. “Though we’re not very high on the list, presumably because he doesn’t expect much resistance from a bunch of messengers.”_

_“That’ll prove to be his undoing,” Pauline muttered._

_“Indeed. For someone so cunning, lawful diplomacy doesn’t seem to be his way.” Edin offered a rueful smile. “But he needs some time after what the Corps did to his little plan, and I believe he’ll go for the fiefs in their entirety first. More alliances, more repressions.”_

_“Safe to say, the Rangers don’t like being pressured,” Pauline chuckled._

_“Morgarath deemed them his main threat and, regrettably, he seemed to be right,” Edin concluded. “Fifty people, and look at what they did to him. Sure, most of them are dead or exiled now, but the resistance, the restlessness - they fell just short of a revolt, the Corps was outraged.” There was a fond little smile on her lips, but it disappeared as soon as Pauline saw it. “Once he reaches us, I believe it’ll be much the same way. That’s why I hope it doesn’t come to that. The Diplomats will put on as much of a fight as the Rangers did, maybe even succeed given the element of surprise, but the losses would be catastrophic._

_There, Pauline thought, and struck. “Therefore it is vital we take down Bal, yes?”_

_“Yes. That’s why_ I _am_ _leaving.”_

_They were back at square one, and she barely resisted an audible groan. Sometimes there just was no reasoning with her mentor._

_“Mistress Edin, please,” Pauline said, softly._

_Edin turned to her young apprentice and gave a sigh. “I know you worry.”_

_“As is natural,” she claimed, clasping her hands together. “Lady, my evaluations are swiftly approaching despite the situation, and I… I cannot lie, I do jump at any opportunity to gain more experience.”_

_“You cannot lie, eh.” Edin gave a little smile. “But that’s not it, is it?”_

_“As a matter of fact,” Pauline muttered, “I don’t want you to go alone either.” Glancing up at her teacher, she added, “Besides, half a Diplomat can be a decent backup, and Steadlow can survive without me.”_

_The serene eyes were examining her for a moment before Edin finally made a controlled gesture, an affirmation, of sorts. “Very well, then. However, this should then be your final mission as an apprentice.” Her gaze was drilling a hole through Pauline’s soul, but she barely felt it in her anticipation. “And I expect you to learn something from it.”_

_“I will not disappoint you, Mistress.” Pauline bowed her head._

_Slowly, a smile spread across her face, and she looked up at her teacher for a moment._

_“Besides,” she muttered, soon glancing away. “The Baron’s son seems to have taken an interest in me.”_

_Edin raised an eyebrow. “_ That’s _why you’re so insistent on leaving?”_

_“Oh, Mistress.” Pauline grinned. “Trust me. He’s dreadful.”_

* * *

“I will be back before long,” Pauline said, carefully inserting the second-last pin into her hair. There were wondrous things a woman could do with hairpins in a fight, and it had always been Pauline’s favourite part of the fun - gods forbid she actually _referred_ to it as such. Lady Pauline was not supposed to know what the word 'fun' meant, it was ingrained deeply into her little public facade. It was a mere coincidence that hairpins were so convenient - and efficient. Her apprentices, therefore, mostly inherited this viewpoint. “I’ll leave you under Lady Mary for the time being, but I promised I had the most orderly apprentice in the Service and that she would be no trouble, so hold on that end of the bargain for me, please.”

Speaking of apprentices, Pauline’s current one was staring her down with quite some disappointment painted over her face. Pauline was trying her best to regard her with the same steely calm she usually presented herself with, and was receiving mixed results. Alyss Mainwaring, for all her morality, didn’t refrain from using her strengths, especially the finer art of debate, in order to get what she wanted. It helped little that her clever words were backed up with complete honesty on her side - she seemed genuine, almost unaware of all the explanations she was making Pauline think up.

“I want to help,” Alyss said, and in her eyes Pauline saw all - determination and anxiety and a fair bit of embarrassment, too. “I won’t hinder you, I swear. This is not a one-man mission, you said it yourself.”

“It is good I am a woman, then,” Pauline answered curtly. She didn’t need to look to know Alyss’s eyes were rolled so far back she probably could see her own insides. Well, it was a rather overused joke in the Diplomatic Service, and never that funny; this, she had to admit.

“Not a one- _person_ mission, my Lady,” Alyss clarified, stepping up to her. “So, please. Take me with you. I’ll make myself useful.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Pauline answered. “But I cannot.”

“Forgive me for my curiosity, but why?” She didn’t need to look to know Alyss was staring her down, equal parts puzzled and frustrated. "You've taken me on more…" She managed a wry smile. "...Questionable assignments."

She found no similar response on her teacher's face.

"Because when it comes to Morgarath, nothing is the same," she said evenly. "Yes, risk follows every better Diplomat, but once you're dealing with _him_ , the risk doubles."

"Well, all the more reason to take double the forces, no?" Alyss offered.

Pauline glanced down at her. "No."

Alyss sputtered, not having expected such a cold answer.

"I'm not defying you, Lady Pauline," she bowed her head, "I just don't understand. I simply don't see a reason not to bring back-up. I can make a distraction, if anything, or scout out the territory, or--"

“Alyss,” Pauline said.

“Lady Pauline, I--”

“ _Alyss._ ”

She fell silent and glanced down to the ground, unsure of what else to say to convince her. Defeated. It almost physically hurt Pauline, but she didn’t show it, instead stepping up to rest her hand on Alyss’s shoulder.

“I know a bronze branch carries a lot of weight, even if it pales in comparison to the silver one you’re working toward,” she told her gently. “I know you feel like you’re more responsible now, better and faster and stronger. And, Alyss, you’re right. You are all those things. However,” she raised a finger once her apprentice’s eyes lit up, “you cannot let those thoughts set you back, or, heaven forbid, turn you overconfident. You are still an apprentice, Alyss, and you must remember this.”

“Of course, I understand,” Alyss repeated. Head down, she murmured, “I just don’t want you to go alone.” Immediately up again, she added hurriedly, “It’s not that I think you don’t understand the danger, really, it’s not. I…” She looked up, and then away. “...I just worry. I’m sorry.”

Pauline paused. Her heart twinged; she felt for her apprentice, but she _couldn’t_ . Not when she was descending into the clutches of yet another one of Morgarath’s agents. Not when they’d all been lulled into a false sense of safety only to reawaken to a long-forgotten nightmare again. Pauline’s teacher’s teacher had predicted nothing good would come out of Morgarath while he was still almost in the cradle, Pauline’s teacher had fallen to Morgarath’s powers, and Pauline was now continuing the fight. But heaven and earth forbid she was going to bring her apprentice into it. A _second-_ year. A _child_ , for all intents and purposes. 

Somewhere in the corner of her heart, she knew she'd have to involve Alyss sooner or later. For her age, she was mature and collected, and she would never let anyone coddle her - not that Pauline ever tried. In her honest opinion, strict discipline and a compassionate heart made a Courier fit for the Diplomatic Service, and Alyss had shown time and time again to be just fine for it, better than fine, but…

Morgarath. Pauline’s vision would be coated in red by even thinking of that name. Ruthless, treasonous, treacherous - a murder, war criminal, a man with no heart. Pauline had lost her youth to his war, she woke year after year with his name on her lips, she had thought of him every time she witnessed a spray of blood and bone - and Pauline was not an old nor bitter woman; but there was not a single nerve in her body that didn't detest Morgarath with every single bit of it.

She did not think Alyss knew of his influence yet. Naturally, she didn’t. The biggest indicator of Morgarath’s power that was familiar to her was the fact that she was an orphan because of him. That, and all the history lessons telling of the atrocities he committed.

And to Pauline, Morgarath’s wretched name meant weeks, months, _years_ of dread. The ceaseless work to keep the Service intact as Diplomats fell left and right - murdered, missing, exiled, discharged, imprisoned, tortured. Never had such a terror taken the state before. And Pauline slept few nights, wrapping herself in bandages, trying to keep _herself_ intact, asking herself _what would Edin do what would Edin do what would Edin do_ and finding no answers, only her own, bracing herself for her falls and learning to predict them, distrusting the highs and growing too careful, too warded off, too cautious. But never fearful, because fear was what ruined Araluen in the first place.

Pauline grew to look a decade older than she actually was - and subsequently had her intelligence questioned alongside her looks. She only had a smile to offer them - no, one wouldn’t call Pauline beautiful. She generally resembled more of a ghost, with scarred hands and bleeding knuckles, and dark wrinkles under her eyes that never went away. Her tall frame brought an uneasy presence when she wanted it to, and her voice was hoarse and could often be perceived as a quiet warning.

So, instead, she was wickedly clever. There were few who rivaled Pauline in wit and wisdom alike (even if she’d never admit it), and her quick thinking had saved many a plan. It was her duty to instill the same determination, the same quiet but just authority in her students. It always had been.

Pauline was never one to be taken by fear.

And yet here she was, selfish, admittedly - and too afraid to take Alyss with her. 

But there was fear, she reasoned, and then there were possibilities. Pauline had always relied on possibilities. The risk was too great, and she knew but one way to diminish it. 

“It’s very dangerous to bring a second-year apprentice along on a mission like this,” Pauline warned her. “I must tell you, on account that you might take an apprentice of your own someday. That doesn't mean I don't trust you, Alyss.”

Alyss gave a small smile, but Pauline raised a hand.

"However, bringing along someone I'm responsible for is different from bringing another Diplomat that's assigned to aid me," she explained. From Alyss's face, she knew the girl didn't yet understand.

"I can handle myself, you said so yourself." Alyss furrowed her brows in confusion. "We've been in danger before."

"Not this kind, as I said," Pauline disagreed. "But that's not the point." 

"You won't have to worry about me," she insisted, and Pauline sighed. 

"I know I won't _have_ to," she explained patiently. "But I _will_. And this time, I can't have that." 

Alyss chuckled. "Oh, I'm always worried before a mission, though."

Pauline offered a weary smile to her apprentice. "Good. It keeps your mind open to possibilities." She finally put the last pin in her hair. Sharp as a blade. "But not during it. When you're in a fight, there's little time for worrying." She looked down at Alyss, subconsciously leaning down a bit to look her in the eye. "Horrible things happen if you focus on something else than fighting."

Alyss saw something on her teacher's face - she couldn't discern the source, but it brought a lump up her throat. She swallowed and took just the smallest step back. Pauline said it like she _knew_ it was going to happen, like she'd been burnt before. And though Alyss didn't know of her having any former apprentices - could that be the reason this was so? - she decided not to question it. 

Alyss sighed, realizing she wasn't going to get anywhere with this, and looked away from her teacher, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"I see," she muttered. "Lady Mary, you said?"

"Lady Knife-Sleeves," Pauline chuckled lightly, but Alyss only offered a faint smile. "Just don't tell her I called her that. I don't need another argument with her."

After seeing how out of it Alyss was, Pauline turned her to face her. "Mary is a good teacher. She'll take care of you, and I'll be back before you know it."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"I know."

Silence settled. Neither voiced their thoughts - both knew what the other was thinking.

Almost instinctively, Pauline lifted her hands, and then Alyss had crashed into her, still a head shorter, wrapping her arms around her waist.

"Now, now," Pauline managed, refusing to admit she could barely breathe. "I'll be fine."

" _Be_ ," Alyss insisted, her voice muffled. "Be careful."

"Of course," Pauline said into Alyss's hair, placing her hands on her apprentice's shoulders to carefully step away. 

She walked to pick up her travel bag, and bowed her head to Alyss as she made for the door, a formal goodbye. 

"Be good," she said.

"Of course," Alyss echoed, cracking a smile. In a show of a few ounces more propriety, she bowed at the waist to her teacher before the door closed and leaned back up, touching her chin in thought. Lady Pauline was never so difficult to convince.

Ah, well. Once she was back, Alyss would ask for details. There was no need to worry now - as Pauline had said, a healthy dose of anxiety was only good for one. And so, with a little unnerving gap between her heart and her stomach, Alyss went to deliver herself to Lady Mary.

* * *

_Huddled in hiding, Pauline was trying to wrap up her arm. The cloth just wouldn’t stay on, it kept slipping and loosening, and she was this close to starting to swear. Everything was stained - her dress, the bandage, all of it. The wound wasn’t even that deep - she barely even felt it as the knife sliced across from her - because she’d leaned back, the blade hooked onto her arm and not her stomach. But there seemed to be quite a bit of blood._

_After watching for a while with a somber expression, Edin motioned for her to hold and let her own hair down. The tie was wide and soft, so she sliced off a part of it with a dagger and, taking the longer half, re-wrapped Pauline’s arm._

_“You cut it off too short,” she told her quietly._

_“It’s too dim in here,” Pauline explained. Edin didn’t answer, tying a firm knot. “Mistress, how did this happen?” She dug her fingernails into her palms, staring straight ahead, frowning. “They knew we were here. How?”_

_“I know as much as you do,” Edin replied, crossing her arms. She fit rather comfortably in one of the niches in the ruins they were hiding in, unlike Pauline, whose long legs and high waist was making it feel like she was a claustrophobic spider. Nevertheless, neither one of them was very happy with the situation they were in right now._

_It was as if they’d been prepared already. The Diplomats had no chance to sneak past on account that there was nowhere to sneak - Bal’s henchmen had formed an impenetrable line around his hideout, eight people in total. Not only had Pauline’s distraction failed, but it also earned her that damn cut in her arm._

_It wasn’t all bleak, though - a bit peeved about almost being murdered, Pauline managed to return the favour via her prefered methods of throwing one of her blades at the attacker and getting it through his eye. It didn’t look pretty. Edin, meanwhile, after seeing her apprentice’s blood gushing to the ground, unable to discern how much harm had come to her, tore a line across the bandits in an effort to get to her. She was a wicked woman with a longsword in one hand and a poisoned blowpipe in another, and Pauline saw two men go down immediately - and another one with a tiny dart in his eye._

_Now, though, they were pressed up in some long-abandoned ruins as the bandits howled and searched beneath them. They had no idea how to escape, let alone how to accomplish what they’d come here to do._

_Nevermind, then. Things were as bleak as could be, even if there were only five men left, Bal unaccounted for._

_“You must have theories,” Pauline muttered, leaning down through the opening in the wall carefully to check for the bandits. They didn’t seem to be on this side of the ruins. “You always have theories.”_

_“As a matter of fact, I do,” Edin said, pulling her hair back up into a bun, only with significantly less of a tie to leave dangling. “But I don’t want to voice them very much.”_

_“And I really don’t want a guessing game right now.”_

_“Perhaps we can come to the same conclusion, dear apprentice.” She pulled Pauline back from the opening and shook her head, telling her to stay in place. “What do you think?”_

_“I don’t know what to think,” Pauline answered, honest. “But they knew we were coming. They had to, nobody stands on guard like that. But how would they know? We were so careful.”_

_“We were careful enough for Bal never to notice we were coming,” Edin stated, matter-of-factly. “He may be Morgarath’s puppet, but that doesn’t make him very bright, now, does it? Our concealment wasn’t the issue. If I’m right, it must’ve been someone else’s doing.”_

_A certain cold settled in Pauline’s stomach. “You mean to say someone’s betrayed us.” Edin said nothing, staring intently at the crumbling wall. “Someone from the Service?_

_“Well, you’re the one who said it,” Edin shrugged. “I truly don’t want to believe it. But these are difficult times. People will do anything to save those they care about. And I’m sure Morgarath is… persuasive enough.”_

_“Of course he is.” Pauline closed her eyes. “Who do you think they are?”_

_“Pauline,” Edin stopped her. “This is not the time nor the place to speculate. We know nothing. Even if there is a turncoat in the Service, spreading distrust is not the way to smoke them out.”_

_“No,” Pauline muttered. “Of course not. No.”_

_“Good.” Edin sat up straighter. “Give me a minute.”_

_She put her hand to her chin, face devoid of expression. Pauline watched for any intruders, aware that her teacher was planning. She had a few ideas herself, but, she thought, pressing her hand on her injured arm, maybe it was better to leave Edin to it this time._

_“Okay,” Edin said, eventually. She leaned over Pauline, peering down to the ground. “The path is clear. I’ll make a distraction this time, you make a run for cover, and wait for me. If all goes well, we'll make it to Bal's hideout alone, and it's all child's play from there."_

_Pauline shifted uncomfortably, humming. Edin caught on._

_“Is something off?”_

_“No, Mistress,” Pauline muttered, looking down at her hands. “I’m just… worried.”_

_Edin settled back. “About what?” When Pauline shook her head and moved to stand up, she forced her back down. “No, no. Tell me.”_

_“I--” There was no escaping this now, Pauline thought. She just had to say something. Oh, stars. “It’s just… Once we get to Bal, I hope I do you justice, as your apprentice.”_

_“Mm?” Edin was still staring down, but glanced to the side to look at Pauline every once in a while. “Why wouldn’t you?”_

_“Well, first, the distraction failed. And I managed to get myself scratched up,” she said, flustered. Edin leaned back to sit opposite of her, staring into the bright young eyes. “That’s all. I was worried I’d… fail you, somehow.”_

_Edin was silent for a moment before she said, “A lot in missions depends on luck. There is no Master of Luck, not in the Service. And if the Rangers have something,” she added, drawing a quiet chuckle from Alyss, “well, it was about time they shared it.” She reached out to brush a bit of dust that had landed from the so-called ceiling onto Pauline’s shoulder. “You’re going to make mistakes. Everyone does. Your apprenticeship is the prime time for making mistakes, Pauline. One day, you’ll have made more than most - that’s what makes a good Diplomat. A good anybody, really.”_

_“It’s hard to imagine,” Pauline murmured. “Being a good Diplomat, I mean. Having people depend on me. Being surrounded by, being as good as… People like you. Very strange.”_

_“We don’t take apprentices under the impression that they’ll be as good as we are,” Edin said, closing her eyes. “We raise you like our own children, because we know you can be better than us. You_ will _be better than us. A teacher whose pupil outgrows them has achieved their dream, and there’s nothing more natural for a pupil to outmatch their teacher, eventually.” Gently, she took hold of Pauline's face to look her in the eye. "Now go. I'll be right behind you."_

_After a moment of silence, a few deeper breaths and a nod, Pauline stood up._

_“Be quick,” Edin instructed her, and leapt down._

_From there, Pauline heard clashing and yelling, and multiple voices. She didn’t wait - she trusted her teacher. If Edin said she’d be behind her, then it meant she would._

_Pauline jumped down as softly as she could, and moved across the field, never looking back. Edin had it under control, really. Then, as soon as she was sure she wasn’t visible from the battlefield anymore, she sprinted forward._

_The voices followed, but too slow. Too slow._

_Edin must’ve had broken off from them, seeing as soon enough Pauline started noticing breaths to her side, and shuffling of boots. They found each other’s company when they were almost back in the hideout, and Pauline took notice of the bruises her teacher had sustained._

_“It looks nasty,” she said, referring to the black eye over her left cheek. Edin huffed, speeding up a little._

_“Wait until you see the other guys,” she joked. Pauline stifled a laugh, and they dove forward. “Alright,” Edin started once they actually started approaching the camp. “Once we’re there, we go in - together. I don’t want to let you get… How’d you put it? “Scratched up” again.”_

_“I’ll be fine, Mistress,” Pauline promised as she slowed down to a walk and entered the clearing. “Huh. That wasn’t so hard. They’ll search for us in the forest - by the time they check back here, we’ll be long-gone.”_

_“For sure,” Edin agreed. “It could’ve been much wor--… Oh, dear."_

_One of the men was still alive. Incapacitated. Placed on outside on a chair with a nasty look on his face. And they had walked right into his trap._

_The man by the entrance met their gaze with his one good eye._

_“No,” Pauline whispered._

_He opened his mouth, and he screamed._

_Edin leapt forward, and Pauline watched, frozen over, as her teacher sent the bandit’s head rolling, clean off his shoulders - but it was too late._

_The voices grew closer and closer, and Pauline looked to Edin for direction. Edin gripped her sword firmly and nodded to her apprentice._

_“New plan. Head inside,” She ordered her as the men swarmed them. “Take care of Bal. You know the drill, but if you’re in a spot, kill him. We know for a fact Morgarath is behind this, now, not just some petty band.” Pauline thought that to be reasonable, but, before she could go, Edin grabbed her arm for the last few moments away from the fight._

_Then, she pressed her blowpipe into her hand, muttering a “Take care of it, godspeed,” and was off._

_Without looking back, Pauline followed her order._

_The inside of the shaft was cold and the air felt moist. She tried to mind her step as much as possible - the contents on the ground did not look pleasant at all. Cautiously, Pauline aligned herself with the wall, though trying to press herself to it as little as possible, and moved closer._

_Bal - easily recognizable, pale as a sheet, even with the telltale crown of golden hair muddy and ruffled - stood at the very end of the mineshaft, examining a sheet of paper on the table. Orders, Pauline guessed, but it was way too far to make out._

What does it matter now _, she thought to herself, a little annoyed._ I can read it when he’s out cold. 

_She stepped forward._

_This is where Pauline learned how short fights were, and how much the bards of heroic epics exaggerated the honour and grace of a fight. Bal was a big man, but Pauline had the element of surprise, and that was what decided the victorious side._

_Slowly, she crept behind him, and raised the blowpipe. Gods know what sort of poison the arrow was coated in, but she knew Edin was not one to waste ammunition. Thankfully, he must’ve been too caught up in whatever was in that document to hear her. Fortunate, because, after all, Pauline was no Ranger._

_Edin’s blowpipe, her favourite weapon when she couldn’t have her sword, was meticulously crafted. It didn’t take very big lungs to send the arrow far and forceful._

_She frowned in concentration, and aimed._

_She was positive she made no noise, and maybe it was an instinct, but, at the last second, Bal whipped around and immediately located her._

_This didn’t ruin her shot - the arrow still pierced the side of his neck, as small as a needle, which he then effortlessly ripped out like it’d been a minor inconvenience. And maybe it was true, for the time being, but it was already too late for him._

_Seeing that it was a pale, scrawny teenager who’d just fired a shot at him, he let out a blood-curdling roar and lunged at her. Pauline’s mind went blank as she dove to the side, rolling to the other wall of the narrow corridor, over the very mass she wanted to avoid stepping on. Not that it was the time to think about it._

Alright, _her head told her before all save for instinct faded away,_ alright. Alright.

Just avoid him. Until the poison takes its course.

_This proved to be a little more difficult than she’d anticipated. She remembered all she’d told her own teacher about Bal’s lethality, and found it all applied to her, too. He was faster than a snake and more agile than a stag, and gods, Pauline didn’t mind a fight every now and then, but she was studying diplomacy and debate, not whatever she was doing trying to avoid his punches._

_Eventually, he seemed to remember he had a knife, and Pauline recalled having a dagger._

_They crossed blades, and Pauline quickly came to realize she was not going to last long like this. Quietly, she apologized to Edin, but she wasn’t going to risk her life just to preserve a bandit’s._

_She dove to the side again, and, before he could follow, launched herself forward and grabbed onto his neck, throwing herself onto his back. Before she could get a good grip for a stab, he grabbed her by the hair and flipped her forward, down to the ground. Pauline made a startled noise as she hit the ground, and, as she bolted upright, her head collided with Bal’s. She fell back down, her dagger slipping out of her hand._

_Wasting no more time and probably never even having felt her heatbutting him, Bal pinned her to the ground by her neck, and pressed the entirety of his weight on it._

_Suffocating, Pauline tried to choke out a breath, but failed. Slowly, yellow spots starting spreading over her vision as she kicked and writhed around desperately. Her chest was aching, torn._ No. No, no.

_It was once her hands had fallen to her sides, limp, that she felt Bal’s grip loosen. Then, the pressure faded completely._

_As he collapsed on top of her, Pauline broke out into a coughing fit._

_It took her a minute to push him off, wheezing - it still felt like there was a hand around her throat, and she knew enough to assume the feeling wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon._

_Finally taking a deep breath, she checked his pulse, and found a faint flutter. Not for long, she reckoned, if the poison was anything to go by._

_Speaking of which, where was the blowpipe?_

_She stood up, stumbling slightly as she rubbed her neck, a persistent ringing in her ears giving her hell, and found the blowpipe soon after, along with her dagger._

_But there was a problem._

_The pipe was in pieces on the ground, crushed by one of them in the scuffle. Pauline sucked in a breath through her teeth, frowning._

_“Oh, dear,” she murmured, gathering the pieces and sliding them into one of the pockets in her skirt. “Edin’s going to kill me.”_

_Her eyes widened. Edin._

_She scrambled to get back up and flew to the entrance like a frightened bird, nearly tripping over the stones and the puddles as her heart raced. In her own struggle, she'd nearly forgotten her teacher, and her own words -_ You can't take them all on alone, Mistress _\- and now she was doing just that._

_As soon as she stepped outside, she saw bodies. Two pretty obviously dead, bloodied and partially dismembered, one that seemed to still be breathing, but also unconscious. Edin probably didn't have the time to finish him off._

_The last one was still up, though bruised and barely standing - after seeing Pauline emerge, however, he made a beeline straight for her._

_She threw her dagger - and hit, right between the eyes. Lucky._

_Sprinting a few steps forward, she finally found her teacher._

_She had been silly to doubt._

_“Mistress,” Pauline breathed a sigh of relief, walking forward with her hands out. Edin was standing, her back turned to Pauline, hunched over a little. “Oh, Mistress, thank the gods, I thought--”_

_She stopped mid-word as her heart dropped to the pit in her stomach. From a closer glance at her teacher, Pauline knew immediately that something was horribly, horribly wrong. Edin looked at her over her shoulder, and her gaze was unfocused, and strangely sad. Almost guilty._

_Pauline ran forward just as Edin fell to her knees. Now Pauline saw it - blood, pooling at her feet, trickling down her legs, her vest, her cheeks. Pauline lunged to catch her, holding her head up so she wouldn’t hit it on the ground. A single red droplet rolled down from the corner of Edin’s lips as they were twisted by a small smile._

_“I’m sorry,” she said. “This is it, I’m afraid.”_

_Pauline shook her head, looking around frantically. “Don’t be ridiculous, Mistress. You-- You can’t. Hold on, please.”_

_“Pauline…” Weakly, Edin raised a hand to pinch her upper arm, almost playful, if it weren’t for the weariness on her face. The fatigue in her bones. “Bal?”_

_“Unconscious,” Pauline answered, trying her best to put pressure on the injury in her stomach. Black blood was gushing out, though - it was probably too… Shaking her head, she added, “Though I’m not sure if dead or not. Also,” she muttered, revealing the shards, “I’m afraid I’ve ruined your blowpipe.”_

_“Oh, apprentice,” Edin muttered in disapproval, eyeing the space vaguely above the pieces. “Whatever shall I… do with you.”_

_“I’m sorry,” Pauline whispered. And it wasn’t about the blowpipe._

_She kept thinking of Bal throwing her down. Maybe if she’d been a little faster. Just a_ little _faster… Maybe she could’ve saved her._

_“No,” Edin barely managed as she reached out to brush her fingers against Pauline’s cheek. “None of… None of that. Proud... of you.” Pauline shook her head, her hair falling over their faces, shielding them from the world. For a moment, it was only her and her teacher’s breathless words, the voice hitching in her throat. “Never doubted you. Pauline, I… Be cautious. Pauline. Careful… I’m so…”_

_“You’ll be alright!" Pauline pressed her lips together as she tried to put pressure on the wound still, only to realize it wasn’t the biggest one, and neither was that, nor that… “No, no…”_

_Edin’s breath seemed to be tearing her chest open, almost. “I’m proud of you,” she said with this breath, and none that came after were as deep._

_“No,” Pauline repeated, glancing back at her mentor, holding her steady. “Mistress Edin, I-- Edin, please stay with me. Please.”_

_“As long as I…. As I can,” Edin promised, but her hand was already back down on her chest. She was crumbling, slowly, more and more of her body going limp, and Pauline suddenly felt like she’d never truly told this woman exactly how much she’d meant to her._

_Her hands shaking, she pulled Edin closer, cradling her to her chest, and dug her face into the space between her shoulder and neck, quivering with her whole body. It almost felt as if, if she only tried hard enough, the beating of their hearts would align, and Edin's would settle, even out._

_Pauline didn't know which breath was Edin's last. She wasn't even sure if she'd still been alive when her head fell back, eyes devoid of recognition, of emotion. She looked oddly blank, dead. Not much of a person anymore._

_It was as if she was holding a shell instead of a woman. There was nothing Pauline recognized in the husk of what used to be, save for the clothes. If not for them, she might as well have argued it was the wrong person in her arms. Still, she only brought her closer, refusing to put her down, trying desperately to preserve at least what warmth of life was left in there. Futile._

_She sat for hours. It felt like seconds before she heard voices and hooves, and, absentmindedly, never letting go of Edin, she pulled a knife out of her boot, holding it ready over her teacher’s chest, pointed in the direction the noise was coming from. She didn’t much care for the attackers, though, whoever they might be._

_She didn't care much for anything._

* * *

_Mary jumped down from her horse, motioning for the rest of the couriers to stay quiet while following. She’d taken two, one of them an apprentice of the other, and thought it to be insurance enough. They’d spotted bloody tracks not too far from here, and couriers never let the ones they’d been chasing get far. It was one of the advantages that came with knife throwing._

_Finally, they came across a path through the bushes, which opened into a clearing. Mary held her knife close to her chest, ready to fling it at the closest moving object nonetheless._

_Instead, she found a sight she’d never want to see again._

_The two couriers had cloaked themselves in the colours of local flora previously, it seemed, but they still had their blue dresses underneath. The cloaks now discarded, the two were huddled together - in a pool of red blood._

_Mary motioned for her two companions to come along, but took only small steps toward the pair._

_Finally, after a good look, she differentiated the two, and her heart fell to her stomach._

_Edin’s head was pressed against the other courier’s chest, but her bloodied hand had fallen to the ground, drawing a line in the ground with her finger, probably as she was being moved. It looked almost like her chest and stomach had been ripped open._

_She was dead, Mary realized. Truly, irreversibly dead._

_Tears pricked at her eyes, but she went on closer. The other courier, to her shock, was alive. Breathing, but unresponsive. In shock, clutching Edin’s body, cradling her closer._

_Mary knelt down in front of her as she sent her other two couriers to search the perimeter for danger. She reached out to rest her hand on the apprentice’s shoulder. The girl was carrying a bronze branch, she knew at once, and that stung even worse._

_That’s right, Edin had taken a little one. Never once complained._

_“Pauline, was it?” Mary asked, gently tilting the girl’s head up. An empty stare fell on her. “Pauline duLacy. Right. We’re here to get you back home.”_

_“All clear!” came a shout from the inside of the shaft, just as the girl seemed to want to say something._

_“Here, too!” came another. Mary nodded to nobody in particular, knowing her couriers would come back to her now, and worked on something else._

_As cautiously as she could, she reached to take the knife out of Pauline’s hands. The girl let her, probably recognizing her as an ally and not a threat. Mary wore her silver branch on her neck, plain and clear to see._

_The problem came a little later._

_“You have to pass her over to us,” Mary stated, glancing down at Edin. Her eyes were closed, but a great strain must’ve shaken her at the moment of death. “We’ll put her in a carriage and get you both back home, okay?”_

_Even though Pauline voiced no agreement nor refusal, peeling her slender fingers from Edin proved more difficult than she would’ve thought. She wouldn’t cooperate - it didn’t seem like she wanted to be disobedient, more so that she didn’t understand fully what was happening._

_By the time they managed to pull Edin out of her arms, there were tears rolling down her cheeks. After passing the body to one of her couriers, Mary gave it a sorrowful look - Edin had been her friend, once._

_Deciding there was no time to dilly-dally, she got back down to Pauline. “Alright, little one. Come along.”_

_After this, it was quite easy to pull Pauline up and put her on the open carriage, next to her teacher, and begin the journey home. Suffice to say, there was neither the upbeat chatter nor uneasy mutterings, even._

_One of Mary's women had found a document by a bandit's body - a bandit, who, Mary assumed, must've been Bal. He himself, according to them, was dead long-before they found him, the corpse disfigured and bloated. Regretful, Mary tilted her head. Edin had always been fond of poisons; perhaps her apprentice had inherited the inclination. Either way, the letter they'd recovered would aid them in the long-term._

_Nearing the carriage with her horse, Mary looked over Edin, still horrified. The wounds were many, and all severe. Edin had been defiled, her body decimated and mangled._

_“Who did this, duLacy?” Mary asked Pauline, whose eyes seemed to focus for the first time in the entire conversation. “Whose men were you fighting? Who killed her?”_

_And what an upsetting sight it was. Brows furrowed, her already dark eyes darkened even more. Animosity and anger, and hatred that should never be seen in an apprentice’s eyes surfaced in them as Pauline looked up at Mary._

_And, in a cold, unwavering voice, came a short, vengeful answer, forced out her throat and then through her teeth._

_“Morgarath.”_

**Author's Note:**

> pauline as a teacher: here is a 95 slide powerpoint presentation on why being humble and hardworking is important  
> halt as a teacher: fuck you, go wash the dishes
> 
> i originally meant this to be more focused on the mentor pauline rather than her apprentice years, but hey, if halt gets an origin story with his teacher dying dramatically, then so does pauline. i don't make the rules. either way thank you so much for reading my admittedly way more oc-impacted story than i initially intended!!


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